Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 199879 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 999(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 666(@300wpm)
The flashing lights have me stumbling more than I already was outside as I sing along to “cult leader” by KiNG MALA.
We walk up to the island in the kitchen to get me a new drink, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch the back of Saint walking past. My shoulders slump that he didn’t stay. But I know he’s looking for my brother and Kashton.
I know exactly where they’re at. “Surprise me,” I tell the guy holding a new Solo cup in his hand.
“God, Saint is such an ass.” Whitney huffs. I know her from Barrington. We’re friends, but I wouldn’t say we’re best friends. We hang out every now and then. She understands what it’s like to be a woman growing up in the Lords world.
I smile. “I like the way he is.”
She rolls her eyes. “Please. He’s a piece of shit who thinks he rules the world.”
“You just described every Lord out there.” They’re raised to believe that. I’ve seen it firsthand with my father and how he’s raised my brother. A Lord can do no wrong. They’re rewarded for being evil. The more creative they can be, the more they are praised.
“They’re not all the same,” she argues.
I snort. “Okay.” Not believing that. She has a sister and a brother. I don’t feel sorry for Miller. He’s just another Lord who thinks he can do no wrong. But her sister? That’s a different story. Laikyn is a couple of years younger than her, and Whitney’s two years younger than me. I’m going into my senior year at Barrington, and Whitney will be a sophomore. Whitney isn’t as sheltered as her sister is, though. I feel sorry for Laikyn. She has no clue what her life will be like once she attends Barrington. My mother has never hidden my future from me.
You will belong to a Lord, and if you’re lucky, you’ll die young. She once said that to me after finishing off an entire bottle of wine one night when I found her crying at the kitchen table because my father didn’t come home for dinner. I’m always confused as to why she cares about what he’s out doing because they hate one another. They married because their families told them to. Not for love. That’s how relationships work in my world. Two families are combined for power. Marrying because you love someone is unheard of.
“Here you go.” The guy hands me my new drink, and I don’t miss the way his eyes drop to my hard nipples. I’m still wet from the pool, and it’s freezing in this house.
Thoughts of Saint have me looking around to see if he’s in the kitchen, and I’m disappointed when he’s not. He looked so fucking good. He always does. And the way he ripped my drink from my hand? Whew. Maybe I wanted to take the chance of it being laced with something? Bet he never thought of that. It’d give him a reason to take care of me. I’d do anything to be in his arms, even if that meant being unconscious and unable to remember most of it.
There are more ways than one to accomplish that. I toss it back and take a gulp, gasping at the strong taste of vodka and …blackberry? “Fu…ck,” I breathe.
The kid winks at me. “It’s an Aunt Roberta.”
As if I know what the fuck that is. I take another drink, and it throws me into a coughing fit.
Whitney slaps my back. “What the fuck did you give her?” she growls at him.
“An Aunt—”
“I heard you the first time, jackass,” she snaps. “What the hell is in it?”
“Straight alcohol,” he says in a duh voice.
It runs down my chin and onto my chest, forcing tears from my eyes. “I’m…fine.” I gasp, coughing once more. Hitting my chest, I take a deep breath, and the burn intensifies.
“Jesus, Ash, are you trying to kill yourself?” Whitney mutters.
Shaking my head, I cover my mouth with my free hand while the other still holds my drink. Whitney tries to take it from me, but I step back, gripping it tighter. “I’m fine,” I tell her. Getting under control, I quickly look around for Saint, but again, there’s no sign of him.
I’m not the type of girl who waits around for a hero. Or wants a Prince Charming. They’re the good guys—boring. I want someone who I know will fight for me. Even if they have to cheat to win. And that’s exactly what a Lord is raised to do—fight. It’s in their blood. All they know.
I take a sip this time and smile at the kid staring at me expectantly. I nod. “Good. Thanks.” Then I turn and head toward the stairs as Whitney hollers at me. I ignore her, pretending that the music is too loud to hear her. She doesn’t understand what I want or need. Just like me, her future is already set in motion. We can’t stop it, so we might as well make the best of what we have now.